Never His Girl: Dark High School Bully Romance (Kings of Cypress Pointe Book 2)

WEST

Broken glass crunches beneath the soles of my sneakers. I circle what’s left of my car and vow to crush whatever asshole snuck into the parking structure and did this shit.

Headlights, taillights: busted.

Tires: punctured.

Hood, trunk: bashed to fucking hell.

Windshield, side and back windows: completely smashed, scattering glass all throughout the interior.

Hell, it’d be quicker to list what isn’t fucked up.

“I have the footage, sir,” Nelson says, rushing to my dad’s side with a tablet in hand. He hits play and the four of us—me, Vin, Dane, and Sterling—all lean in to watch.

First, there’s nothing to see but my once pristine car and flawless paintjob. Then, two bodies rush into the frame. Both dressed in black hoodies, one in black yoga pants to match, the other in sweats. The one with the tight fabric hugging a remarkably familiar ass, wields a pink softball bat, making the first dent in my hood.

I’m breathing heavy now, coming into the realization of whose handiwork this is. Glancing toward Dane and Sterling, they’re already eyeing me. There’s no need to question whether they’ve reached the same conclusion.

This was fucking Southside. She didn’t work alone, either. Seeing the wild, dark hair of the other guilty party, I’m guessing she called Rodriguez in for reinforcement.

Both keep their hoods up and they’re also careful not to look toward the camera, but I’ve watched Southside so long, her every move, I don’t even need to see her face.

What the fuck’s gotten into her crazy ass?

“I pay you well. Do I not, Nelson?” Vin asks a little too calmly.

“Yes, sir,” Nelson stammers.

Vin nods. “And you’re one job is to secure this fucking parking structure so shit like this doesn’t happen. Is that right?”

Nelson’s face is red as hell now, but he nods like he’s not about to piss himself. “Yes, sir.”

“Yet… your worthless ass let a couple bitches slip in under your nose and beat the shit out of my son’s car,” Vin seethes. “Nice work. Very nice work.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I—”

“Where the fuck are the cops?”

Nelson just about jumps out of his shoes when Vin snaps at him.

“You told me to always call you first when things happen out here, so I… I haven’t reached out to them yet. Should I do that now, sir?”

Vin’s jaw ticks with rage and he slices a furious look toward Nelson. A look that answers that last question.

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

As soon as Nelson turns to grab the phone from his booth, I speak up.

“No, not the cops. Just a tow truck.”

Vin’s wrath is on me now, and I practically feel the heat of hell rolling off the man.

“What the fuck do you mean ‘not the cops’? Have you lost what was left of your mind?”

I meet his gaze, aware of this being the most we’ve spoken in weeks.

“The car’s in my name and I said no cops.”

We stare one another down and I know he saw the same thing I did. A tall blonde we both know has a long list of reasons why she could’ve vandalized my car tonight. Even if I don’t know what I’ve done recently that pissed her off, but that’s a whole other conversation. A conversation I intend to have about thirty minutes from now.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Vin scoffs, huffing with an incredulous laugh as he takes a step back. “Have you seriously gotten this weak? That you’d let some bitch smash up your whole damn car and get away with it?”

Nelson looks more nervous now than when it’d been him on the hotseat.

Vin, on the other hand, looks disgusted. Like the only reaction any son of his should have is to fly off the handle in a rage. Sort of how he’d handle it. Only, I’m not him. At least, I hope I’m not.

“I can’t even stand to look at you right now,” he says scornfully. “I didn’t raise any of my boys to be doormats. You’re kings in this damn city. That’s the legacy I handed all three of you on a fucking platter. Maybe, one day, you’ll start acting like one again, West.”

He casts a disappointed glare my way that has both my hands knotting into fists. I want to swing on him. More than usual. It isn’t until my brothers step up, flanking me at either side, that I’m reminded they’re in this with me.

We stare in the general direction of where Vin’s just disappeared on an elevator, dialing someone on his phone seconds before the doors close between us.

“So… to be clear, just the tow truck, right?” Nelson asks, sounding confused as hell by the show of dominance he just witnessed between my father and me.

“Yeah,” I answer with a sigh. “Have them drop it at the nearest body shop for now.”

He’s about to walk away when I call out to him again.

“Nelson?”

He faces me, looking like he wishes he’d called in sick today. “Sir?”

“This isn’t on you,” is all I say, but it seems to make a world of difference.

He offers a dim smile. “Thank you, sir.”

With that, he returns to his booth and gets back on his job.

Dane shakes his head, staring at the car beside me and Sterling. “Guess we don’t have to wonder what happens when you piss off a south side girl,” he jokes.

“No shit,” Sterling adds. “I wasn’t gonna mention it, but watching her and Rodriguez swing those bats was actually kind of hot.”

I glare at him from the corner of my eye. Hot isn’t exactly the word I have in mind.

“At least you have your answer,” Dane cuts in.

When I shift a questioning gaze toward him, he shrugs.

“You wanted to know if she still cares, if anything you’ve done has mattered,” he explains.

I look at the mess she made of my baby again and try to understand how this is proof of that.

“A hundred bucks says this is Southside’s response to Pandora sharing that half-assed post about you and Parker. If she didn’t care, I guarantee she wouldn’t have flipped out and gone all Girl, Interrupted on your ass.”

His response has me patting both pockets for my phone. When I find it, I’m on the hunt for whatever this post is he’s talking about. I only scroll for a few seconds before the picture pops up.

“The fuck?”

Staring at the image, anger rises in me like the tide. If this hadn’t already been a shit night, it definitely is now. I go from wanting to kill Vin, to wanting to kill whoever the fuck Pandora really is.

I rush toward the Chevelle and unlock it

“You taking off?” Sterling asks.

“Just do me a favor and stick around until they take the car,” I call out, dropping down behind the wheel of the work-of-art I’m grateful Southside didn’t realize is also mine. If she had, there’s not a doubt in my mind I’d be footing the bill to get both cars fixed.

It’s still hard to believe she had the balls to come here—the building where I live—to ruin my shit. But maybe what Dane said is true, and this wasn’t just a random-ass act of destruction. If that’s the case, and this was Southside’s response to thinking something went on between me and Parker tonight, then this counts as a win.

I mean, it’s a fucking loss for my car, but in me and Southside’s twisted slice of existence, it serves as proof she’s not dead inside when it comes to me. Not like she tries to pretend when I walk her from class to class in silence. Not when she bailed on me after semifinals.

So, as I barrel through the streets of downtown Cypress Pointe, headed to the other side of the city, I have one goal in mind. Southside and I are about to own our shit. Whatever that means. All of it.

And no matter what happens, I’m not leaving until it’s done.